


Our Great Unknown

by Chamelaucium



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Bickering, Desert Island, Exhaustion, Fluff, I hope, M/M, Naked and Afraid AU, Sounds heavy but actually rather light hearted, Survival, UST, ex-army!Thorin, hunger, i mean these boys are naked together for three weeks, it might be too much for Thorin to handle, survivalist!Bilbo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-06
Updated: 2014-09-16
Packaged: 2018-02-16 09:35:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2264727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chamelaucium/pseuds/Chamelaucium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two strangers.<br/>One desert island.<br/>No clothes.</p><p>Thorin and Bilbo don't stand a chance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ahaha so basically I spent 10 days in the US and my brother started watching this show called Naked and Afraid; the whole time I literally _could not stop thinking about bagginshield_ and how they would (or maybe wouldn't) survive three weeks stuck somewhere dangerous.
> 
> Thus this was born.
> 
> I'm kind of excited for it but I'm not going to promise to regular updates or anything - we'll just see how it goes. But it should be fun and I really hope you enjoy it!! (Also I'm lazy and couldn't think of a better title for the show so I'm, ah, borrowing it. No copyright infringement intended and all that. ;) )

“I thought you’d be bigger.”  
  
“ _Excuse_ me?”  
  
Bilbo couldn’t believe this was happening. He was standing as naked as the day he was born in front of a complete stranger - who was also unclothed, and wasn’t it just bothersome that he had the sort of body Bilbo would ogle in any other situation. It was perhaps the most painfully embarrassing moment in his entire life, and to top it all off, the first words this stranger had said to him had been an insult.  
  
No greeting, no nod of acknowledgement, no _nothing_ besides offensive words. Bilbo disliked him already.  
  
“I thought you’d be bigger,” the dark haired man repeated. “For a survivalist, you’re small.” He snorted in amusement, lip curling. “You look more like a grocer than a survivalist.”  
  
His eyes raked down Bilbo’s body critically and Bilbo was grateful for the rough shoulder bag covering his modesty even as he spluttered in indignation at the words, trying not to let the sting get to him.

  
A cough from behind him only reminded him of what an acutely embarrassing situation he was in. Not only was he butt-naked in front of a very handsome, very rude stranger, but their encounter was being _filmed_. And so every moment for the next three weeks would be, as they tried to stay alive and work together. Bilbo could definitely see _that_ happening.

  
As the man in front of him crossed his arms and looked at him expectantly and the camera crew trained the cameras on him, Bilbo wondered just what on earth he’d signed up for.  

* * *

“You should do it, Bilbo.” 

“No, Drogo.”

“Why not?” Bilbo ignored his younger cousin’s plaintive questioning, working instead on twisting his twigs into a basket. “You’re the best of all of us. Even Lobelia says so.” 

Bilbo paused for a minute at that but quickly continued, not wanting Drogo to see. “I sincerely doubt that.”

“I was there,” Drogo told him and he’d puffed his chest out a little when Bilbo glanced up at him, as if he was proud to be the bearer of such news. “Admittedly she looked as if she was eating a lemon when she said it, but _even Lobelia_ thinks you could do it.” 

“Have you all been discussing this behind my back?” Bilbo asked as he returned to his weaving, half joking; Drogo’s silence made him look up again. “You haven’t. Tell me you haven’t.”

“It…may have been a point of discussion. Once or twice,” Drogo admitted sheepishly, not meeting Bilbo’s eye. Bilbo remembered all the times he’d got back to camp after going out to collect firewood and the way conversation would sometimes end abruptly and the smiles sent in his direction were too quick and eager. He’d paid no mind to it, but suddenly they made sense. 

“Tell me you didn’t do anything stupid,” Bilbo said threateningly, setting his twig basket down and glaring at Drogo. In answer, Drogo simply held out an envelope he’s been hiding behind his back. Bilbo took it with a sinking stomach, knowing what it would say. There was silence as he read it, and once he was done he said nothing, simply staring at the piece of paper in his hands.

“So?” Drogo asked hopefully. “What do you say?” 

If they hadn’t been related, Bilbo might have already silenced his cousin through various nefarious means. As it was, there were quite a few people who might have something to say if he suddenly offed Drogo purely because he’d stuck his nose where it didn’t belong – something it seemed his entire survival enthusiast group had been doing.

“I suppose,” Bilbo said slowly, staring again at the words on the page before him, “that you lot are going to be at a loss without me.” 

“You’ll do it?” Drogo’s face broke out into a smile. “Really?”

Bilbo shrugged. It would be dangerous and difficult, but he knew enough about surviving in wild terrain to keep him alive. He’d been doing this for over fifteen years, after all; he needed a new challenge. 

And that was why, over a few short weeks, he found himself meeting with an interesting man named Gandalf Grey, who with only a couple of questions and an enthusiastic shake of the hand welcomed him to the crew of _Naked and Afraid_.

It was only afterwards that Bilbo realised he would actually have to be naked. In front of a total stranger.  

(He refused to speak to Drogo or any of his survivalist colleagues for a full two weeks when he remembered.)

* * *

The short man before him drew himself up to his full height – which wasn’t so very great, and Thorin didn’t even bother to hide his smirk – and glared straight at him.

“My name is Bilbo,” he began. “I don’t exactly know what I’m doing here but I’m here now and I have no intention of going home early and you can either join me or not. I’m not used to being insulted by strangers and I’m not about to start now, so please tell me your name and then we can start on the important matters.” 

Thorin could only stare at him, not expecting such ferocity from such a…well, short man – especially not with his dark honey curls and big soft eyes, making him look more like some cherub from a painting than someone who was a professional survivalist.

The man was staring straight back at him so Thorin quickly looked down at his feet before looking back up with what he hoped was a slightly more humble expression on his face. 

“I’m Thorin,” he offered and Bilbo nodded shortly. Neither of them said anything for a moment and the silence was strangely stilted, especially as Thorin couldn’t help but let his eyes wander over this Bilbo again. He flushed as he realised what he was doing and quickly looked away, coughing, and hoped Bilbo hadn’t noticed. He scratched the back of his head, hoping this would go away soon. He’d forgotten about the cameras but as he tore his gaze away from Bilbo’s appealingly soft body he saw them trained on them and their awkward encounter.

Just _marvellous_. Him checking out his new survival partner was going to be broadcast on national television, and wasn’t that just _brilliant_. He'd forever be known as the pervy guy.

“So what did you bring?” he asked quickly as Bilbo frowned at him, no doubt confused as to why he was coming out in hot flushes. He fumbled at his rough-spun bag, the only thing they were allowed to keep along with the one survival tool from home, pulling out a machete.

Bilbo was doing the same and held out his firestarter and the map they’d been given by the camera men when they arrived. He gave Thorin a small smile. “You’ve got more sense than manners, at least,” he said tightly and Thorin felt his face darken into a scowl.  

“Let’s hope you’ve got more brains than muscle, then,” he retorted. “Otherwise we’ve got no chance.”

Bilbo looked affronted and opened his mouth to retaliate, but the sudden squawking of a bird somewhere over in the forest behind them made them both freeze and remember exactly where they were – on a desert island somewhere neither of them was exactly sure where (they wouldn’t find out until afterwards, apparently), with only each other and a machete, a firelighter and a map that looked like it had been drawn by one of Thorin’s nephews, it was that basic.  

Bilbo looked like he was swallowing a lemon but he seemed to put aside whatever remark he’d been about to say and instead gestured towards the cover of the forest, which came right up to the start of the sandy shoreline.

“I suppose we should start building our shelter then. I don’t fancy being caught out in the dark.” 

Silently, Thorin agreed and together they began to walk towards the forest, searching out the best place to locate their shelter.

* * *

When one’s job requires most of the time to be spent outdoors in unforgiving conditions and treacherous terrain, one becomes rather adept at surviving.

Admittedly Thorin had had more equipment when he’d been a soldier scouting out enemy lines and securing safe routes for his comrades, but after he’d left the army he’d kept it up as a hobby, learning a couple more of the tricks of the trade. Not that he’d ever admit to being a _hobbyist_.

It had all been Dwalin’s idea, really, and he should have known it was a stupid one. Who puts themselves at risk for the sake of a television show? But the challenge had seemed attractive after so long spent having to be satisfied with trips up the nearby mountains or into the woods, and Fíli and Kíli had seemed so delighted with the idea that their uncle would get to be _on television_ that Thorin had found himself quite swept up in their enthusiasm and had signed up.

He couldn’t quite believe he was accepted, but he was and he spent the next few weeks feeling quite proud of himself, until Dwalin put things into perspective. 

“I can’t believe you’re going,” his oldest friend said for about the hundredth time as Thorin was reading up on primitive tools.

“So you’ve said,” he remarked, smiling to himself. 

“They must be mad,” Dwalin said, so softly that Thorin almost didn’t hear.

“Hey,” he protested. “I’m not that bad.”

Dwalin gave him a look. “I don’t mean at what you do, Thorin.” 

He frowned. “What _do_ you mean then?”

“I mean that your partner is probably going to get sick of you within the first five minutes and be jumping on a plane back home at the first opportunity.”

Thorin didn’t dignify that with a comment, returning to his book and ignoring his friend. But he wasn’t reading; he was remembering the jovial producer Gandalf’s words when the subject of partners came up.

“Have no fear,” he’d waved away Thorin’s worries when he’d voiced his concern about being partnered up with someone...useless. “We’re very good at finding suitable matches here. Don’t you worry, Mr. Durin,” he’d said, smiling widely. “We’ll find you the _perfect_ companion.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo is fond of coconuts and Thorin has a very trying night.

While the Baggins in him was crying out to chase after the departing speedboat and hurry home back to his comfy house and safe woodland, Bilbo's Took side was sticking its heels in and demanding he make the best of it and show this arrogant prat he'd been so unfortunate to be paired with just what he was made of.

And if that meant spending three weeks in the company of someone with the body of a god - well, at least he'd have something pretty to look at. (Just a shame the man's personality was about as unattractive as his body was otherwise appealing.)

Quickly he shook his head - it wouldn't do to let his appreciation of his partner's aesthetic appearance get in the way of more important, necessary matters - such as building their shelter.

"Where do you think we should set up?" he asked, not looking around at Thorin but aware of him stopping behind him. "How far into the forest, do you think? The beach is too exposed."

There was no immediate reply and he glanced around, only to be met by a pair of sharp blue eyes glaring at him, which were suddenly guilty as they darted away to look at the treeline. Bemused, Bilbo followed Thorin's gaze as he shifted on the hot sand.

"We should stay close to the beach," he offered and again Bilbo was struck by his voice. It was such a shame it hadn't said anything nice to him, because he imagined that that voice whispering certain things into one's ear would be quite an experience - not that _he_ wanted to experience it, of course. He could do much better than that uneducated lout. "You never know what's in those trees."

Bilbo nodded. "My thoughts exactly." Much as he hated agreeing with the man, it seemed he at least had some basic precautionary sense.

Quickly they set about gathering up branches and leaves and vines from the trees along the shoreline, neither speaking much; the sun reached its peak as they worked - Thorin's machete proving very useful with the tough, living branches - and Bilbo briefly worried about the amount he was sweating. As yet they had no drinking water and no way of replacing lost fluids; if it continued to be this hot then it could become a problem indeed. They'd have to look into that.

As he combed the edge of the forest he found something amongst the leaf litter and shrubbery that made him smile widely in delight. A coconut.

Carefully he picked it up and glanced around for the tree. If he could gather enough coconuts they'd provide both food and water, at least until they discovered another water source. Now he was looking, he saw the coconut trees were far more numerous than he'd originally thought. Hurriedly he picked up his pile of palm leaves and branches and rushed back to the spot they'd decided on for the shelter, screened from the elements by tall shrubbery and the canopy overhead but not too far into the forest teeming with wildlife.

"Thorin!" he called, aware of the cameraman following him. That was going to get annoying after a while, he was certain. "Thorin!"

His partner appeared from the opposite direction, his arms full of sticks of bamboo and a cameraman hot on his heels too. "What is it?" he asked curtly when he reached Bilbo, depositing his load down.

"I found something and I need your help," Bilbo told him and began leading him back to where the coconut trees were, eager to show off his find. There were so many coconuts he'd never carry them all; maybe he'd search the island and if he found enough to make it worthwhile he could weave a basket to carry them -

"Coconuts?" Thorin's voice broke into his musings and he turned to glare at the man angrily. "You brought me all this way for coconuts?" His voice was practically dripping with mirth and if his face had been capable of showing any emotion at all Bilbo was sure the man would be smirking in disdain.

"Yes, coconuts," he retorted, feeling his cheeks flush a little. They were being _filmed;_ couldn't the other man at least have the decency to save them both this embarrassment of squabbling like children on television? "They're food and we can drink their water. So unless you have a better idea of avoiding starvation and dehydration, help me carry some."

"Couldn't this have waited until after we'd built the shelter?" Thorin asked as Bilbo shoved an armful of coconuts at him, accepting them all the while looking deeply unimpressed.

"We might get hungry," Bilbo snapped back and, laden with an armful of the fruit, he started back towards the area they'd designated as their camp. Thorin followed after him and they set to work on building the shelter, though not before arguing over how they should go about it, and even once they'd decided they still had trouble agreeing the best method.

"Put it in the crook of these branches."

"We haven't got any sticks long enough for that."

"Well how would you suggest we do it, then?"

"I don't know, but maybe without you breathing down my neck the whole time!"

Eventually they worked it out though they were both fuming, and it was only the knowledge that they probably wouldn't last the night without this shelter that kept them both from throwing their sticks to the floor and storming off. They were so caught up in studiously ignoring each other that they even forgot about the various cameramen circling them like some kind of vulture, Bilbo thought when he was unfortunate enough to catch sight of one. Vultures circling them, eager for every bit of drama they could give them - and drama was something he and Thorin had been very good at providing so far. He cringed to imagine what of it would make it to the final cut and he only hoped Gandalf would let them keep at least some shred of dignity. 

* * *

Thorin couldn't believe the man had made them stop, purely to show him some _coconuts._ What use were coconuts when they still had no shelter? And it didn't look like they were going to have one at all at this rate, he thought sourly. Bilbo seemed determined to disagree with him on everything - why were the cute ones always the fussy ones?

He had to physically look away when the other man bent down to check the strength of the shelter, biting his lip to give himself something else to focus on that wasn't the soft round globes of Bilbo's rear end. If his body betrayed him he thought he might just about die of embarrassment.

Of course then Bilbo looked up and accused him of slacking and Thorin gave an angry retort - the day he owned up to his thoughts was the day hell froze over - and they worked in angry silence again.

Considering how much they stopped to argue, it was hardly surprising that night began to draw in before they'd finished. Before too long it would be pitch black and they wouldn't be able to see a thing; any number of creatures might come sniffing and with an unfinished shelter...

"Hurry," he heard Bilbo say, fixing another branch into position hastily. He bit back another retort - bickering wouldn't get the shelter finished. But no matter how quickly they attached palm leaf fronds with vines, they couldn't beat the oncoming night and they had to squint through the gloom to even see anything. He hoped the cameras couldn't pick them up - but of course they'd have night cameras, he remembered. They'd see everything while he could only just see his hand in front of his face -

"Ouch!" he yelped as something smashed into his ribs none too gently. A branch.

"Sorry!" Bilbo said back, voice lowered in this strange eerie darkness. "I didn't see you."

"And whose fault is that?" Thorin hissed back, also unwilling to raise his voice in the oppressive murkiness, as if by doing so he might bring unwanted attention upon them. His sister would laugh to know the thought had even crossed his mind.

"Excuse me?" came Bilbo's huffy reply. He seemed to say that a lot. Thorin could just make out his pale form, but his glare set his skin prickling.

"It's true," he maintained. "If you hadn't got so excited over some stupid coconuts, maybe we'd have a usable shelter -"

"Coconuts are _useful!"_ Bilbo returned in an angry hiss, an unexpected vehemence in his voice. Thorin hadn't thought he'd be so protective of the ridiculous fruits. "If you hadn't been silly about how to even make the shelter in the _first_ place -"

" _I_ was silly?" Thorin returned, anger making him raise his voice as he stood. Bilbo did the same though Thorin was still a good head taller than him; now his eyes were growing accustomed to the dark he could see Bilbo's furious expression. "It wasn't _me_ who spent an hour deciding which tree to use -"

"But it was you who refused to cooperate!" Bilbo shouted back and the lack of echo was disconcerting as his voice was absorbed by the forest around them, sounding strangely muted despite his raised voice. "If you'd just done as I asked rather than being an ass about it -"

"An _ass_? Well at least I'm not a fussy old -"

A sudden squawking of birds and cracking of twigs from somewhere entirely too close for comfort stopped them both in their tracks and they froze, falling absolutely silent as they tried to discern what was out there.

"What was that?" Bilbo breathed and Thorin was glad to know he was at least as spooked as he was.

"Is the shelter alright for tonight?" he asked, ignoring Bilbo's question. He didn't know the answer.

"Should be," came Bilbo's reply and ever so quietly, still looking around, Thorin gestured towards the entrance. Bilbo didn't need telling twice and hurried inside their still-rudimentary shelter; Thorin followed, backing towards it and only taking his eyes off the outside forest at the very last minute. His heart was thumping wildly as he and Bilbo sat, still breathing heavily - and there hadn't even been anything there. At least, not ostensibly.

He felt Bilbo's eyes on him and turned to meet them, but Bilbo turned from him and lay down, facing away. They hadn't had time to collect any leaves or grass for bedding and the soil was rough under his body. It was horrible and Thorin couldn't help shifting as he too lay down, trying to get as comfortable as possible. Just unfortunate that Bilbo was just as uncomfortable as he was and had had the same idea. They both jumped apart at the brush of their bodies and Thorin felt himself flushing, grateful that the camera men hadn't managed to get a camera in there with them (though no doubt they'd set one up the next day).

"We should get something to block up that entrance," he said, more to take his mind off the warmth of Bilbo beside him. Bilbo made a non-committal noise and didn't reply, leaving Thorin to his own thoughts.

Mahal, this floor was uncomfortable but he was too afraid to move lest he touch Bilbo again. Just as he thought it couldn't get much worse - stuck in an unfinished shelter with a fussy partner and who knows what prowling the forest outside - the wind suddenly picked up and the temperature plummeted. Thorin wished then that they'd chosen a spot at least a little deeper into the forest, as the branches making up their shelter began to sway alarmingly.

"Do you think it'll hold?" he asked Bilbo beside him, unsure if the man was even awake (though how someone could sleep when the roof was likely to collapse, he'd never know).

"Let's hope so," Bilbo replied quietly and Thorin saw the glint of his eyes and knew that he too was watching every creak and groan of the branches and praying their twine and leaves would be enough.

"Lost faith in your design?" he quipped, or tried to - judging by Bilbo's scathing look, he failed.

"I have faith in the design," he said. "Just not the builder." And with that he turned over again, much to Thorin's suffering as an expanse of pale back - and more, but he didn't let his gaze wander that far down - was revealed to him. He closed his eyes and counted to fifty to take the temptation away.

He couldn't sleep and the night passed agonisingly slowly; it was so cold and Bilbo started shivering beside him, though neither of them tried to rectify it despite the fact Thorin knew he was awake. Thorin wished they'd had time to build a fire.

Only once the wind dropped and he stopped fearing the shelter would fall down around them did Thorin's eyes close, heavy with fatigue as they were, and all too soon they opened again to sunlight streaming in through the leaves of the shelter. Day one survived; only twenty more to go.

He wanted to cry.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so day 2 begins...

The first thing Thorin noticed was that the shelter, while still standing, was far too bright. Sure enough, much of their hastily woven leaves had come apart and patches of the roof had blown away, though in the grand scheme of things it wasn’t a lot. That would need fixing, however, Thorin thought to himself as he sat up.

The next thing he became aware of was the fact the shelter was empty apart from him. Bilbo’s spot was deserted. Quickly Thorin shuffled over to the exit and crawled out, shielding his eyes from the glare of the sun on the sand just beyond the forest edge. He couldn’t see Bilbo anywhere; he felt a sudden wrench in his gut at the thought something had happened to him before he realised he was being ridiculous. Of course nothing would have happened.

“Bilbo?” he called out uncertainly. “What are you doing?” Silence answered him and he headed out to the beach, the light intensifying, making him squint. The beach was also deserted, no footprints other than his own breaking the white perfection of the sand. “Bilbo?” he called out again, feeling the beginnings of apprehension prickling his stomach. The man was irritating, but they were supposed to be working together.

“I’m here,” a voice said from a little way off into the forest, making Thorin jump, and a moment later Bilbo stepped out from behind a tree, arms laden with an assortment of leaves - some thin, others short and wide - and still-green twigs. “There’s no need to shout, you know, unless you want to let every animal within a mile know we’re here.”

Thorin said nothing, half amazed at the words coming from Bilbo’s mouth. “You were gone,” he pointed out. “You shouldn’t just go off like that - anything could have happened to you -”

Bilbo interrupted with a disbelieving snort, looking at Thorin in open amusement. “What, and you’d be the one to rescue me?” he asked and Thorin set his jaw, knowing the mocking tone for what it wae and unwilling to give the camera-men (curse them, they were fast) more fuel. Or the whole nation - at this rate Thorin would be the laughing stock wherever he went.

Instead he gave Bilbo a hard glare and forced out some words from behind his clenched teeth. “Next time you should at least tell me,” he said, and turned back towards their camp. He could hear the others following behind but he paid them no mind, instead looking back over the shelter and deciding what needed to be done.

Bilbo handed him some of the wider leaves he’d collected and together they set about fixing up the holes the wind had made, using some of the twigs to strengthen it. It wasn’t particularly strenuous but Thorin was unused to the humidity and was sweating by the time they were done, his hair hanging limply around his shoulders. He’d need to find something to tie it back with at some point, he reflected as a lock kept falling in his eyes.

When they’d finished it wasn’t quite noon, judging by the sun, and Thorin was thirsty. Unsurprising, considering he was losing most of his fluids in sweat. He much preferred being cold - you could always put on another layer in the cold but he was already stripped down to nothing. He’d done pretty well at ignoring their nakedness today, he thought.

“We should get a fire going,” Bilbo told him, interrupting his musing as he sat with his back against a tree, even the bark unpleasantly warm. “It would help at night. I woke up at one point last night and I swear there was something out there.”

“Are you sure you weren’t imagining it?” Thorin asked drily but he pushed himself to his feet anyway, despite Bilbo’s look. “I’ll get some wood.”

“I’ll have another look for some food,” Bilbo said and they went off their separate ways, a couple of cameramen trailing behind them both.

There was no shortage of trees on the island; the problem was most of them were still living and all the wood was too green to burn for fire. They’d be alright if they were truly stranded and needed a signal fire, Thorin supposed, but that would rather defeat the point of why they were there in the first place. He poked around under the bushes and dense foliage for dry sticks, wary of traversing too far into the forest - if his time in the army had done anything it had given him a due sense of caution and sharper hearing; once he found one lot he found a load more and soon he had enough for a fire that would last them a couple of days at least.

On the way back he took a wrong turning somewhere and once he’d eventually found his way back to the right place he was dripping with sweat from the heat in the forest and the lack of respite. There was no breeze under the canopy and he was hot, tired from lack of sleep and thoroughly uncomfortable by the time he got back.

As such, he was very unimpressed when he saw Bilbo’s idea of food was coconuts. 

* * *

There were some things Bilbo really didn’t need in his life, and a naked Thorin flushed from exertion and with a smouldering stare was definitely one of them. Not that Thorin probably meant for his look to be smouldering, but that was the only way to describe that fierce look in his blue eyes. When his glare turned from the coconuts by his feet to his face, Bilbo did his best not to shudder at the intensity and merely swallowed hard.

“What are those for?” Thorin demanded. “Where’s the food?”

Bilbo suppressed a sigh. Really, it was _such_ a shame he had no manners. “ _Here_ is the food,” he said calmly, as if explaining to a child. He nudged a coconut with his toe. “Until I can find anything else, we’re eating coconuts.”

Thorin’s face turned positively stormy and he looked like a petulant child - not that a child would have such finely, deliciously toned muscles and such -

 _Focus, Bilbo!_ he told himself.

“What use are they? They’re about as filling as...as...you might as well eat nothing. And I’m thirsty.” Thorin listed his complaints as if they were all Bilbo’s fault, glaring at him as if it was all because of Bilbo that they were here with only coconuts for sustenance. Well, if he was going to behave like such a child then Bilbo was just going to have to treat him like one.

“Then you’ll just have to drink coconut water,” Bilbo told him. “You can open it if you need something to do.” He picked up one of the fruits and threw it to him; Thorin caught it and looked at it as if it might bite, or if it was something distasteful. He looked between the coconut and Bilbo as if trying to decide which one he disliked more. Suddenly he dropped the coconut to the ground, making Bilbo jump a little.

“I’m setting the fire going,” he said, voice surly, and strode back to the forest edge and their shelter to set up the fire, before remembering that Bilbo had the firelighter and turning back to request it from him. Bilbo only just managed to hide his smile as he handed it to him, forcing himself not to watch him go. He’d be mortified if his ogling of his survival partner was shown on television.

Studiously ignoring the curses and mutters from the shelter and Thorin’s (failing) attempts at lighting a fire, Bilbo focused on his own job, weaving long thin leaves and twigs into a basket for storing and carrying his coconuts. And any other food they might eventually find, but for now it would be a coconut basket. And if Thorin didn’t like it, then perhaps _he_ should go foraging and see if he had any more luck.

Bilbo had more than half finished by the time Thorin let out a little hiss of success and the first waft of smoke was sharp in his nostrils and made him cough. He looked over and saw Thorin bending over a small pile of twigs and kindling, a flickering orange glow shining on his face; his eyes were triumphant when he looked back at Bilbo.

Gradually it grew and when it was crackling merrily Thorin rejoined Bilbo on the sand, looking at the basket shaping in Bilbo’s hands with only the barest hint of interest. He looked back at the fire and then at Bilbo, looking so pleased with himself that Bilbo had to smother his smile. Thorin looked like a puppy who’d just fetched a stick and Bilbo had to busy himself with the basket again before Thorin’s mood soured again.

“You did it,” he remarked, glancing at the fire. He refrained from saying _eventually_ out loud.

“Now we just need some food to cook on it,” Thorin said dryly. Bilbo said nothing, only continued with his weaving. Thorin coughed as a gust of wind blew a blast of smoke into their faces and Bilbo couldn’t help but think that the wood he’d gathered was too green - it shouldn’t be producing this much smoke. “Mahal, I need a drink,” Thorin muttered.

“We’ve got coconuts,” Bilbo told him.

“I need a proper drink. Water, not this coconut nonsense.”

Bilbo looked at him sharply. “We’re surrounded by salt water,” he said. “I haven’t seen a stream and I walked halfway around this island this morning. If you want to drink salt water then go ahead; but until we find clean water or a way to obtain it, I’m drinking coconut milk.”

Thorin looked as if he had a bad taste in his mouth and glared at Bilbo before looking away and staring out across the horizon. After a while he looked again at Bilbo’s basket, nearing completion. “What’s that?” he asked shortly.

“It’s a fruit basket,” Bilbo replied neutrally.

“For your stupid coconuts,” Thorin said and got to his feet. “I’m going for a walk.”

“Don’t you want to save your energy?” Bilbo called after him. “ You don’t want to have to eat a coconut!”

Thorin didn’t reply and Bilbo only smiled to himself as he watched Thorin’s retreating form cross the sand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for all your comments and kudos - I really appreciate it!! I'm so glad you're enjoying it ^_^

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed it! ;)


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